Exchange
by cremefeathersfalling
Summary: Kurt Hummel is a forgein exchange student from Marseille, France. He gets quite the culture shock when he is sent to William McKinley High School.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **Oh, look, Cats has a new story when she's supposed to be working on Stopping/Feathers/whatever else there is! :D Ugh, I understand I need to update my other fics. But, for Stopping I have to be in a certain angst mood where I'm literally "ANGSTANGSTANGST" all day. And, I was in a French mood, and, this was born. The amount of research that went into this kept me up until 6 am. If the translation are wrong, I'm still learning French and I have to use Bing Translate instead of Google Translate because my computer freezes on GT.

Anyways, a bit of info - Kurt is a forgein exchange student from Marseille, France. Marsielle is a popular city in France, next to Paris and Lyon. I like Marsielle because it has, so I've heard, nice winters (about 55 degrees in the day) and warm summers, and it's on the Mediterrianian Coast, which is a nice plus. Schools in France (again, so I've heard) are very much more ahead, academically, than schools in Ohio (I know this from personal expierience, Ohio schools suck), so, that is why it feels like first grade for Kurt. I see him majoring in Philosophy, so, that's added in there.

Long AN is long. Uh, let me know if you'd like to know anything else on France, or if you have any questions. Or if you want to review! :D

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><p>It hadn't even been five minutes in the new, large school and Kurt Hummel already felt completely lost. The red-headed guidance counselor who he had met insisted on not taking his hand and easily leading him through the almost impenetrable sea of students, on account of "foreign germs, no offense". It took him a moment to figure out exactly what she had said, his English new and rusty. He struggled to keep up with her as she carefully weaved through the crowded hallway as to not touch anyone. Finally, after what seemed like forever and had Kurt readjusting his Asos leopard print and leather blazer, they reached an old wooden classroom door. The pale boy sighed.<p>

It was so different at the schools here compared to his own school back in Marseille. In France, the academic work had been so much farther ahead than the work he had had the chance to preview here. He had been the best in his Philosophy class, and was quite disappointed to find they didn't teach that here. Actually, most of their criteria was from stuff he had learned in his junior year. Maybe Americans weren't as smart as French people? He wasn't sure, but all he knew was that his senior was going to fly by.

He was also amazed to hear that there were 'cliques'. Sure, he had heard of them –mostly from American television- but there were never many in his school. There was no drama, either in his old school. Come to think of it, there weren't any sports, or teams, or clubs and after school activities. Sure, Kurt was greatly involved in theatre and music, however none of it had to do with the school. He had heard something about a 'glee club', and was very curious to know more about it.

Kurt realized he'd been spacing off for a moment when the red-head opened the door, talking to the teacher of the class in a hushed tone before stepping back and giving the countertenor a reassuring smile. The teacher of the History class glanced at Kurt, merely raising an eyebrow at his exterior, and cleared her throat –which wasn't necessary due to the fact that everyone was already staring. "Class, this is Kurt Hummel, a foreign exchange student from Marseille, France. He doesn't speak very much, or good, English, so be kind to him and help him around the school," she said, shooting that same smile to him that all the teachers shared upon seeing him, the one that seemed to say, 'It'll be okay,'.

The boy swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat, clutching his black Louis Vuitton messenger bag tightly as most of the students immediately started talking in hushed whispers to each other. He could faintly make out the words "gay" and "odd clothes". Weird, his clothes were considered normal back home. Sometimes a bit over the top, but no one minded at all. He bit his lip, keeping his head down as he trudged to the back of the room in his ankle high maroon Doc Martens, sitting down in the only empty chair in the class. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a boy with thick, black curls wearing a burgundy pullover cardigan over a navy polo, watching him curiously. Kurt cleared his throat, shifting uneasily and pulling out a notebook, attempting to copy the notes the teacher was writing on the whiteboard.

Kurt struggled some as the teacher wrote quickly and talked even faster, her English slurring together and confusing the boy. He gave a small frustrated noise as he furiously copied the note on the board, managing to get half of them down (albeit with quite a few spelling errors). As she continued to talk about what she had wrote, Kurt sighed in annoyance, giving up on learning anything for the day as he muttered, "Je ne comprends pas ce que l'enfer vous dites."

The curly haired boy next to him glanced over, eyebrows raised. "What was that?" he asked softly, silently cursing himself for his curiousness.

Kurt looked up quickly, eyes wide as he saw the other boy. He stuttered, unsure of what to say. "Uh, uh..." He bit his lip, then pointed to himself, saying, "I". He then took his fist and held it near his temple, taking his thumb and forefinger and sort of flicking them, talking slowly, "don't understand." He then pointed to the teacher, biting his lip and shaking his head as he shrugged.

The other boy smiled softly, taking Kurt's notebook and writing in it with his pen, "Mon nom est Blaine. Vous devez être le nouveau gamin? Je vous écris parce que Miss Rydel n'aime pas parler de sa classe." ("My name is Blaine. You must be the new kid? I am writing because Miss Rydel does not like talking in her class.")

Kurt grinned, excited at the fact someone else spoke -or wrote, for the time being- French. He took the notebook, writing back quickly. "Bonjour, Blaine. Je suis le nouveau gamin. A tout le monde parle me? D'ailleurs, comment savoir français?" ("Hello, Blaine. I am the new kid. Has everyone been talking about me? How do you know French?")

They continued this writing the whole period, Blaine explaining that yes, everyone excited for a new student, especially one from overseas. He confessed though, that they were dissapointed when the student had only been the flamboyant boy, making Kurt blush slightly. He also mentioned there were Spanish and French language classes, saying Spanish was mandatory, but French was optional; Blaine, however, had chosen French. Kurt explained all about where he was from and how different it was here, asking if all the kids dressed like they were blind or had just rolled out of bed.

The two boys were a bit sad when the bell signaling the end of the period rang, Kurt saying how he had Chemistry while Blaine had Math. The shorter boy had offered to show him around and inform him on the ways of American schools, to which Kurt greatly accepted. The boys agreed to sit together at lunch, since Blaine always sat with his glee club members (Kurt silently cursed himself afterwards for not asking what that was) and had stated that "while I love them, they are, quite frankly, annoying". The pale boy on grinned stupidly as he nodded eagerly.

Kurt was overjoyed he had found someone who could fluently speak his first language, especially someone who was as kind as Blaine. While he desperately missed his friends and family back in France, he could feel a new friendship coming on.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** WOOT FOR AWKWARD HAND BUMPING! :D

this was supposed to be finished and uploaded before sunday. as you can see, that didn't happen. at all. my throat is still sore as hell from my maroon 5/train/matt nathanson concert, which delayed this chapter. i mostly wrote this all yesterday, and finished it today.

hey guys, i actually have a plot for this story! i've got everything figured out, up until the 4th chapter. if this was short, i apologize because this chapter was mainly focusing on the kurt/karofsky meeting. i'll be trying to follow the nbk storyline, so, EXPECT KURTOFSKY KISSES!

i again apologize for the shitty french. will work on that. .-.

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><p>By now, Kurt basically owed his life to Blaine.<p>

If not for the boy, Kurt would have gotten lost trying to find Mr. Armes' art room, walked into the freshman girls' bathroom unknowingly, and been asked question after question about what it was like in France. Luckily, he only had to endure each one of those situations once, thanks to Blaine, of course. The shorter boy was almost always there when he needed him, or when he couldn't understand what the hell the teacher was saying because she talked too damn fast.

However, Blaine wasn't always there. On many occasions, Kurt would be wandering the halls a minute or two after the bell rang because he still wasn't used to his schedule when a few burly guys would insult him - or so he assumed. He didn't really know what they were saying, but they looked a bit scary so he tried to get away from them as quickly as possible.

When Kurt walked into school on Friday, the same week he had transfered, he was bluntly thrown into the row of cold, metal lockers with a sneer of, "Watch it, homo." The pale-faced boy looked up quickly, eyes wide in fear and hands held up as if to say, "Please don't hurt me," because, well, that's exactly what they were saying. He was met with a large, hulking boy wearing a grey shirt that read 'McKinley High Football' underneath a red and white football jacket. Ah, the familiar boy who had insulted him with that strange look on his face. The boy grimaced outwardly, but Kurt noticed the curious glint in his eyes, as if wanting to, to... To what, Kurt wasn't sure, but, quite frankly, it scared him.

The boy merely shoved Kurt back against the lockers again, making his head rattle with the metal as he and his 'football buddies' -as Blaine had described them- carried on, laughing and high-fiving each other.

Kurt was appalled. He was never treated that way back in France for being homosexual. Sure, not all of France was accepting, but it wasn't like he flaunted his sexuality. He did love fashion, and he did love the arts and theatre, but that didn't mean he was automatically homosexual. A lot of heterosexual men were into theatre (maybe not so much in fashion, but still), and they were never teased. Kurt had heard from Blaine that all the boys in New Directions, their glee club, were constantly ridiculed and called 'gay'. Kurt merely raised an eyebrow, eyes widening at the news. He wondered innocently why these jocks were so against homosexuality.

During his contemplation of the recent event, Kurt hadn't even realized that he had slipped to the floor, and now Blaine was standing before him with an outstretched arm, a panicked look on his face.

"Kurt, vous êtes d'accord? Que s'est-il passé? Qui l'a fait? Vous êtes-" he asked quickly, a bit frightened before Kurt cut him off by taking his hand and standing, ignoring the odd and unusual in his stomach. ("Kurt, are you okay? What happened? Who did this? Are you-")

The taller boy smiled reassuringly, turning to get his books out of his locker and pull his hand out of Blaine's grip, harshly reminding himself that, according to Blaine, boys that were friends here did not hold hands.

Once he got his books, Kurt faced Blaine with a soft smile, saying, "Blaine, ne vous inquiétez pas, je vais bien. Revenons à la classe math." ("Blaine, don't worry, I'm fine. Let's go to math class.")

The brown-eyed boy grinned softly at him, walking alongside him as they headed to their math class, hands bumping against each other.


End file.
